


If The Dark Lord Doesn’t Die In 15 Minutes

by Trashfire (apocalypse_later)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amorality, Anti-Hero, Asexual Character, Background Character Death, Cliche, Crack, Depression, Developing Friendships, Dimension Travel, Experimental Style, Fantasy, Gen, LitRPG, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Summoned Hero, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypse_later/pseuds/Trashfire
Summary: Clearly the best option to defeat the Dark Lord is to summon a class of potential Heroes to defeat him! Unfortunately, all they want to do is go back, and that can’t be allowed, can it?This is a bunch of kids raised in a world of superheroes and villains, though, so their solution to an unexpected kidnapping is obvious: destroy anyone stupid enough to get in the way of the path home.





	1. An Interdimensional Summon is Basically a Hall-Pass, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a writing experiment with sporadic updates, as I practice dicking around with the LitRPG genre. Also, expect rampant depression on the MC’s part for a while. No current plans for romance, thought that may change.

Once upon a time, a mighty and terrible Dark Lord slaughtered his way across a continent, conquering and enslaving the inhabitants, who (understandably) weren’t exactly thrilled with this sort of thing. Thus it was that the chief nerds of the great kingdoms stuck their terrified heads together and came up with the most ridiculous solution of all time — a summoning spell that would reach out to the person most able to kill said Dark Lord, and bring that person forth. Like ordering a pizza, but with less stuffed crust and more self-sacrificing dumbassery.

I guess they expected some noble knight in shining armor, but — speaking as an isekai reader — it was only natural they ended up summoning a class full of high-schoolers instead.

Personally, I’d have preferred it if they’d summoned an office of paper-pushers or a station of police officers, for two reasons: firstly, it would be far more original, and secondly, it would mean _I_ wouldn’t have ended up as one of the targets.

Call me boring, but I’m just not interested in playing around in fantasy-land, thanks. I’ve got a family to rebel against, a dog to feed, and homework to put off.

“— no doubt that one of you will be the one to vanquish Dark Lord Coryphyx —” Blah, blah, whatever, the head mage dude is still yapping. They didn’t expect us all to end up here any more than we did, but they’re being nice about it, probably because they don’t know which one of us is the future legendary hero they have to keep sweet. Most of the mages are crowded around the ritual area we appeared in, trying to figure out how the rest of us got caught in the backlash (and if they can figure out who the summon was focused on), but the top guy is giving us the standard ‘welcome to fantasy world, please save our asses’ speech. At least they sent servants to get us food and drink while we listen, because the least your accidental kidnappers can do is feed you, right?

I fidget in my slightly uncomfortable position — sitting cross-legged on the marble floor — and eye my classmates. They’re all sitting as well, looking the full range of scared, pissed-off and excited, while Archmage Leo, aka head mage dude, gives us a rundown on the local geography-slash-political groupings. Honestly, I don’t care. Whoever it’s going to be that swings a stupidly-large sword down on the Dark Lord’s neck, it isn’t gonna be me. I just want to get home as soon as possible.

Mrs Hernandez, our math teacher, is listening intently as Leo drones on, no doubt sucking in all that stupid backstory and lore so she can analyze it and figure out what to do. Good for her, but I don’t think a math degree qualifies you to figure out interdimensional travel. Of course, it doesn’t look like these so-called ‘top mages’ figured it out either, so what do I know?

We’ve only been in this world for thirty minutes, and I’ve already got a headache starting.

At least they’ve already said enough keywords for me to figure out that this world runs on Video Game Bullshittery, which means that when I think ‘Status’, I see the first good thing since we arrived.

—————  
 **Name:** Nathan Murlow |  **Lv 1** (000/100)  
 **Sex:** M |  **Age:** 16 |  **Title:** Potential Hero  
 **HP:** 100/100 |  **MP:** 0/0 |  **Points:** 0

STR: 8 (+1)  
CON: 9 (+1)  
END: 9 (+1)  
DEX: 10 (+1)  
AGI: 9 (+1)  
ATT: 9  
PER: 10  
WIL: 9  
MAG: 0  
LUK: 10 (+5)  
—————

Look! Look at all those stats! Sure, they seem to be kind of shitty but they can (probably) be improved on! I think. And what’s up with Attractiveness being 9? From what I can tell, 10 seems to be the average. Damn rude of it, really. Focusing on the Potential Hero title tells me that that’s what’s giving me the bonus point in my physical stats, and an extra 5 in Luck. Heroes are lucky, I guess? Maybe if I’d had the equivalent of 15 Luck back home, I wouldn’t have been caught up in this bullshit in the first place. At least it’s also auto-translating things, so we can understand what’s being said.

“Blah blah blah,” Leo continues, while I mentally flick through the other tabs on my not-very exciting Status screen. No other titles. Inventory screen is grayed-out. The Magic tab is grayed-out too, maybe because my Magic stat is at 0. Skills is active, but sparse. There’s no options, mini-map, or relationships screen that I can see, but there’s a Quests tab, which I tap at curiously.

—————  
 **Current Quests:**

  * Defeat the Dark Lord Coryphyx



This quest is auto-generated due to the spell Hero Summon! Kill the Dark Lord before he can kill you.  
 **Reward** : 10,000,000 XP, New Title, Legendary Weapon, possible other rewards  
 **Time Limit:** Before death of self or Dark Lord Coryphyx  
—————

... I’m going to assume we’ve all got that quest, and move on. If it turns out I’m the only one who’s got it, there’s no way in Hell I’m mentioning it now — maybe I could convince the mage dudes to send one random ‘Potential Hero’ home, but there’s no way if they think I’m the ACTUAL Hero.

Denial mode! Activate!

I cast the most casual of casual gazes around my classmates, but no-one appears to have noticed my flinch, so on to the Skills tab it is.

—————  
 **Skills:**  
 **Animal Taming** , Lv 8 (093/800)  
 **Gaming: Video Games** , Lv 12 (0184/1200)  
 **High School Education (American)** , Lv 34 (2188/3400)  
 **Running** , Lv 24 (0118/2400)  
 **Unarmed Combat** , Lv 3 (077/300)  
—————

Gosh. Wow. Exciting. I’m pretty sure I should have more skills than that; like, why is it just High School Education? Shouldn’t that be a whole load of subjects? I was good at Art and crap at the sciences, have they somehow averaged out? Why are video games included, but not general computer skills? Animal Taming is... what, from my dog? I taught him a few commands, but... okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense. And I know how to throw a punch or knee someone in the groin (theoretically), so that’s normal? I think?

But seriously. I should have more skills than that. Like I said, I’m pretty good at art. Where’s a drawing skill? Or a skill for, I don’t know, Navigation, because I can read maps, or Swimming?

This is the shittiest system ever. Oh, and I tried to get an Analyze or Observe skill, but nothing happened. Whether that’s because I did it wrong, it doesn’t exist, or it’s magic-based, I have no idea. The least I could get is a damn cheat-skill, right? Where’s my OP ability, huh, System?

Something nudges me, and I realise it’s Cathy, one of my classmates, giving me a weird look. Probably because I’ve been staring, blank-faced, past Archmage Leo for the past couple of minutes.

“Are you all right?” A couple of people glance over at her whisper, then go back to listening to the dude. It’s not like we’re more interesting than the Intro to Magic 101 that he’s spewing.

“Yeah,” I mutter back, trying to fold in on myself. Has anyone else found their status screen yet? There’s no way I’m mentioning it — they’ll all see theirs soon anyway, and I don’t want to call attention to myself. “Just... trying to figure stuff out, I guess.”

| **Skill acquired! - Lying, Lv 1!** |

... Really? Really, System? That’s a skill, but I don’t even have one for English?

Cathy seems to believe me despite the low skill level, maybe because it’s a simple lie and she doesn’t know me well, or maybe because she doesn’t actually believe me, but doesn’t care so long as I’m not panicking and flailing. Oh, well!

In any case, I don’t think anyone’s going to freak out too badly because — well, we’ve all seen the safety videos, haven’t we? What to do if various emergencies happen, like natural disasters, supervillain attacks, spontaneous magical events, whatever. Even if the mages can’t (or don’t want to) send us home, it’ll be like a week tops before the local superheroes figure out what’s happened, how to get here, and rescue us. They’ll probably kick the Dark Lord’s ass into the bargain. Once you’ve got an entire class of kids go missing in a major city like ours, and a no-doubt massive magical residue hanging around, the local Aegis team are going to be called in. And considering they’ve got a wizard on the team... yeah, we’ll be fine.

Really, I should think of this as a free vacation. I can’t help but relax a little at the thought that I don’t even really need to start worrying, not until at least a week or so passes without any sign of a superhero kicking down the door to this reality and announcing that they’re here to save us.

It’s a more chilled-out me that waits (patiently!) until Leo stops droning, listening to the last part of his speech about how housing is being arranged (yay) and we’re all going to be trained (boo) at the expense of the Alliance (aka, the Good Guy Countries).

Someone near the front promptly sticks her hand up like we’re in class still. “Are we going to learn magic?”

“Of course!” Leo actually looks surprised at the thought that we wouldn’t — but I guess magic’s a lot more accessible here than back home, where plenty of people still insist that the magic-using heroes and villains have actually got hidden technology, or are psychic (because that’s somehow more logical than magic) or whatever. Who cares? The point is, everyone perks up at that, because even I can admit that magic is totally sweet, and if we can take it home with us, that means we might be able to throw fireballs or lightning around back in the city.

If asked, I’m sure everyone in the class would announce they’d totally be a hero, but really, I’m pretty sure a good number would jump feet-first into villainy. I know, because that’s the route I’d take. What’s life if you can’t enjoy it? Besides, everyone knows heroes prefer to have villains around who aren’t into being major psychos, so all you have to do is not run around murdering people, and they’ll usually hold back enough that you can find an opportunity to escape. Easy!

| **Lying increases to Lv 2!** |

Oh, shut up.


	2. They Don’t Make Interior Decoration Shows About Gilded Cages

There are fourteen boys in our class, and seventeen girls. There used to be fifteen boys, but Josh got kicked out a couple of weeks ago for a certain white powder in his locker (hint: not flour), so well done him on not being interdimensionally kidnapped. His Luck stat would have been higher than ours, I guess.

In any case, us boys have all been herded together, down tree-lined paths and past beautiful statuary, into what apparently used to be the old barracks for the Royal Guard of the Eliantan Kingdom (which is, surprise, where we are now). It’s not in great shape, but the royal staff have pulled together comfortable bedding, and it’s clean and liveable — at the very least, I can put up with it for a week or so. A couple of the guys have been whining that as potential heroes, they should have better treatment, but as one of the mages pointed out, not only was it short notice to sort out room for thirty-two people, but if they were supposed to treat people based nicely on their being a hero, would it be okay if the Alliance just kicked all the unnecessary students out once they figured out which one was the hero?

Everyone shut up after that.

Mrs Hernandez has her own room, because she’s an adult. The girls are all housed inside the Eliantan Palace in rooms of three (and one pair), which might have been due to sexism because, hey, fantasy-world, or maybe because they thought the girls might be in danger if they were housed in a barracks on the ground like we are. Which is also sexism, I suppose.

Alternately, maybe girls are more likely to be the summoned hero and they want them safer and more comfortable for that reason. Beats me.

In any case, I’ve already looked over my bed and the three changes of clothing we’ve each been provided with — all sturdy, plain stuff, tunic and trousers, typical starter gear in an RPG, plus a pair of thick, heavy boots. It’s all so incredibly stereotypical.

Once we’re settled in and the last mage and Guard have left, with promises that we’re all to see the local Alliance representatives as soon as they’ve figured out what went wrong with the spell, or in an hour, whichever’s sooner — well, that’s when we all look at each other, furtive glances and hesitant movements.

“Does anyone know who the hero is?” That’s Barry, who’s loud and obnoxious, and can’t keep a secret to save his life. Which means no-one’s going to admit they’re the hero even if they DO know.

“No, but who cares?” And that’s Sam. He’s a dick who gets away with everything because apparently having muscles and blond hair means responsibility or decency isn’t important. His ATT score is probably 15, and also I want to punch him. “We’re gonna learn magic, dude! And sword shit!” Ah, yes. Sword shit. That must be a technical term.

Atmosphere apparently comfortable now, everyone breaks into excited babbling — okay, not everyone, but most people. I’m one of the ones that settles down on my bed and tries not to look like the antisocial asshole that I am.

Everyone... kind of seems to think they can reap the benefits with none of the work. Like, ‘ _I’ll learn powerful skills and have fun, but someone else can defeat the Dark Lord!’_. I hope whoever the Hero is doesn’t think like that, or this world is fucked. And no-one’s worried about home either, mainly because it sounds like they’ve reached the same conclusion I had — the heroes will come to save us if we’re gone too long, anyway. In fact, a couple of my classmates are more concerned with how to convince any rescuing heroes that they want to stay here longer, despite being minors and technically kidnapping victims.

I’m pretty sure any registered superhero isn’t going to head back to Earth and tell the authorities and our families ‘ _Sorry, so-and-so’s decided to stay for an extra month to defeat a Dark Lord, and such-and-such wants to finish getting a PHD in Pineapple Magic_ ’ or whatever. Talk about a PR hit for them.

Mohammed breaks the conversation up for a minute when he drops down and starts doing push-ups in an attempt to improve his Strength and Endurance stats. It doesn’t work, but he does get a Physical Fitness skill, which leads to about ten boys promptly working out, or at least attempting to do warm-ups they’d only half-heartedly performed in P.E. classes before.

I want to go home.

On the bright side, I learn from listening in to the discussion that everyone’s started at Level 1, and with five skills — High School Education seems to be common, almost everyone has that, but the other four all seem to be pretty random. It’s like the summoning spell just grabbed five random ‘skills’ of ours and stuck them into our official status with no regard as to how often we actually use it or how much we value it. This makes sense considering how completely unprofessional it already was by grabbing an entire class of students. I give this world’s System an F for both effort and results.

Fiddling with the thin bedsheets nets me absolutely nothing, so I avoid any eye contact with the few other boys who aren’t interested in a spontaneous work-out routine, and shift until I can look out a window. Manicured lawns and neat rows of flowers and shrubs. I don’t know if this is historically accurate for our world’s medieval period, but I doubt it. It’s certainly nice-looking though, with everything in bloom. Spring, I guess? Assuming they have the same seasons, and to be honest, I’m already exhausted by my complete lack of knowledge regarding this world and how the hell it works. No, Leo’s explanation didn’t cover things like ‘how many days in a week’ or what the currency is.

I guess heroes don’t have to know that kind of thing.

“I’m going for a walk,” I announce. Quietly, admittedly, but I don’t get more than a casual nod of acknowledgement from a couple of people, so whatever. Those who even notice me leaving seem more interested in talking and trying to gain skills than coming with me (thankfully), so I trot off to the door as quickly as I can without actually making it obvious I want to get the hell away.

Politeness, y’know?

Closing the barracks door behind me, I ignore the two Royal Guards obviously stationed nearby. If they’re not stopping me from leaving, they’re not a problem. I’m still wearing my school uniform, which is more of an issue, but anime has taught me it’s fine for hero-types to run around in bizarre clothing, so whatever. It’s not like I’m wearing a spacesuit or cowboy costume.

There’s a roiling nausea building in my stomach as I stare across the grounds at some no-doubt rare and expensive tree. I don’t even know it’s one that exists on Earth. Not that it matters, obviously. We’ll be home soon. This is basically a vacation. My sister’s probably playing my videogames and overwriting my save files right now, the little asshole.

I stick one leg in front of the other and make myself walk along the path.

Tiled path, not cobble or gravel. It’s not expensive looking, but then, I’m betting all the fancy noble people don’t come over here. At least it looks like regular stone, and not some bizarre fantasy mineral made out of mystic bullshit, like dragon bones.

If anyone tries to make me fight a dragon, I’m joining the Dark Lord.

There’s a low wall up ahead, made of interlocking red stones, surrounding a rectangle of what I would call, in my professional opinion, ‘green things’. Taking the opportunity to distract myself, I stand by the flimsy gate and look closer. Herbs, I think? There’s splashes of colour and small flowers, sure, but it’s obviously not a flower garden, and there’s thin, neat paths down each row for easy access. It smells nice, though a bit heavy, and maybe it’s a little calming to watch bees and butterflies flit or stutter their way across the miniature garden, obviously more comfortable here than with the expanse of plain, trimmed grass outside it.

Leaning against the wall and staring at things doesn’t net me an Insectology or Herbology skill any more than it got me an Observe skill earlier. As a matter of fact, this System is blatantly shit. I guarantee that if this was an isekai novel, I’d have already got an OP skill, been attacked by a villain, and maybe betrayed by my classmates so I could embark on a bullshit revenge fantasy. Unless I was the one doing the betraying, obviously, because let’s face it — I couldn’t be a hero even if the System quadrupled all my stats, stuck me with the title of Legendary Hero, and shoved a suit of armor and a magic sword at me.

I’m a wuss. A somewhat immoral, apathetic wuss, and maybe I’d give a shit about this world if I actually came from it, but I don’t, so I... don’t.

I’m not the kind of guy you read about saving worlds. I’m the kind of guy who reads about other people saving worlds and pretends he’s totally capable of doing the same, when he’s really, truly not.

“Oh my fucking God,” I say, half-crouching to drop my forehead against the wall (gently, I don’t need to die here because I haven’t figured out how much HP some reckless head-bashing loses, and that would be seriously embarrassing). “No. No, this is cool. This is fine. I’m fine.” I’m not fine. “Everything’s okay.” Everything is not okay.

I’m stuck in a bullshit knock-off medieval fantasy world that’s in the middle of a genocidal racial (species-al?) war, and if anyone seriously thinks rumors aren’t going to fly and that we don’t all get targets painted on our heads, I don’t even know what to say. If the heroes back home don’t get here and save our asses within, I dunno, two weeks, we’re probably going to end up dead.

Yes, I could probably try to run. That would cut me off from my classmates, in a world which I don’t understand, with no money or skills (literally), even assuming that there’s no magical or mundane means to track me. And if the heroes DO end up here, they’ll save my classmates and... not be able to find me. So that’d work out great.

Fuck it.

The gate only has one of those simple catch-locks, so I guess people are probably allowed in if they don’t start tromping all over the plants. Stepping inside, I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, put my jacket on the ground like a blanket, and sit down on top of it, hidden by the wall. If anyone looks out from the barracks, they probably won’t see me, and that’s fine. I need a minute alone. Or five minutes. Or a week.

Eyes closed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe —

| **Skill acquired! - Meditation Lv 1!** |

Great. Thanks. That’s really fucking CALMING, having that pop up in the middle of TRYING TO RELAX, you stupid fucking piece of shit System, holy fu—

No. No. Calm down. Just ignore all the crap. Keep your eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. I am one with the multiverse. I am one with the Force. I am the terror that flaps in the night. Breathe.

| **Meditation increases to Lv 2!** |

Ignore it.

Level 3 appears after a while, and I mentally brush it aside. The notifications don’t seem to care whether your eyes are open or not. Level 4 comes a while after, they’re certainly starting to take longer now. Level 5 takes longer still, and honestly, I’m not too annoyed by it now. At least it feels like I’m achieving something, even if it’s only a useless skill levelling up.

I sneak a look at its description — apparently at Lv 5, meditating makes my MP recover 5% faster (great, except I have no MP). So yeah, it’s useless. If it said something like ‘makes you 5% calmer’ or ‘gives you a chance of ascending to become a Buddha’, I might actually care. On the bright side, I’m feeling calmer anyway by dint of actually chilling out and not panicking over shit l can’t help, so go me!

Level 6 in Meditation apparently makes MP increase 7% faster, not 6%, so I don’t even know what the hell kind of math is going on there.

Anyway, long story short, stress is a good way to get exhausted, which is why I ended up meditating myself into falling asleep slumped against the wall, and how I managed to completely miss out on the assassination attempt on the barracks that killed half the people there.

Yay for herbs?


	3. The Health Benefits of a Daily Walk are Incalculable

Imagine being a Royal Guard, hanging around outside what was once your old barracks, before they got the funding to build newer, fancier ones with, I dunno, flush toilets or something (let me have my fantasy of decent plumbing).

So there you are, assigned to prevent anyone unauthorized from going in, but you’re not going to stop people from leaving because — well, any one of these weak-looking kids might be the next Hero. And being a Royal Guard might be mostly about hitting people, but you still have to learn protocol and tactics and stuff, so you don’t last long by being an idiot, and pissing off the next potential _saaaaavior of the wooooorld_ is kind of a dumb move, so yeah.

So one kid leaves and ambles up towards the kitchen herb garden or whatever, and a couple more leave and walk towards the palace. But whatever, they’re not armed, and they have no magic, and you’re here for their protection, not to contain them, so whatever. And then imagine there’s a couple of terrified screams a couple of minutes later, and you draw your swords (because Royal Guards have swords, screw anything interesting, like spears or whips or bizarre magical weaponry), and one of you runs to investigate the screams, while the other stays to guard the barracks and try to calm the freaked-out teenagers who are ducking their heads out.

I don’t know the exact details of what happened to David and Mark, but the aftermath makes the broad strokes pretty clear. They walked up the path towards the palace to go exploring, up to the impressive statues we’d passed on the way to the barracks. And that’s where they’d found out that the statues weren’t actually statues, because someone — as yet unknown — had apparently replaced them with golems identical to the original statues of ancient kings and ferocious dragons and all that jazz, and apparently two potential heroes was a much safer bet than all of us plus the mages and Guards who’d previously gone past at once, because fourteen golems made of enchanted stone promptly came to life and —

Well. Apparently there wasn’t much of David and Mark left. Or the few Guards who’d heard them scream and gone running to them. I didn’t exactly see the results, obviously.

Whatever the case, with whoever had ‘awakened’ the golems (whatever that means) blowing the cover of their super-secret infiltrated minions, they apparently decided to go all out and cause as much damage as they could manage before the Guards could get together and provide a serious fight, which meant the now thirteen surviving golems heading at full speed (surprisingly fast for stone constructs, apparently speed-buffed, so it was someone fairly close by) towards the barracks.

Our barracks.

Turns out one Guard trying to protect a bunch of terrified teenagers doesn’t last long.

I pretended I slept through the whole thing. Got my Lying up to level 6, and while I don’t think everyone believed me, no-one pushed it. At least they probably don’t think I’m the destined hero now, because what kind of hero wakes up to the sound of the artillery spells and screams and general destruction of furious Royal Guards and mages versus mindless golems, and keeps his head firmly ducked below the wall?

There were fourteen boys in our class, and there are seven now, including me. The other surviving six had managed to get out of the barracks and ran for it. Five of them stayed inside and died — maybe they thought the walls would hold? Some kind of wards? Maybe they didn’t think at all, too panicked. Whatever. David and Mark are dead in a fucking fancy garden, and Barry, Christopher, Ryan, Kalim and Oliver are dead in the trashed remains of what used to be a barracks.

So that’s lovely.

We’re all housed in the palace now. Woo.

Oh, yeah, and it turns out there’s no magic that can bring someone back from the dead, except for legendary shit that no-one can do any more. So no Phoenix-Downing anyone back to life and having a good laugh about how dumb their death was, ha ha, etc.

So... I pretty much just sit on my new bed. In our new rooms. In the palace. While Mrs Hernandez meets with all the fancy-pants royalty and diplomats and explains, very politely, that we aren’t really happy with nearly a quarter of our class fucking dying because how the fuck do you not realize that your enemies have replaced your shitty decorations with actual fucking weaponry/soldiers and —

Anyway, I just sit here. And don’t really think of much. This isn’t my problem. I’ll be home soon anyway. Back to class. Back to normal.

| **Lying increases to Lv ... 11!** |

| **Meditation increases to Lv ... 12!** |

| **5 Skills at or above Lv 10! +1 Stat Point!**  |

I manage to summon the energy to shove that aside, and go back to doing nothing.

*****

Mrs Hernandez gathers us all together the next morning, after we’ve finished breakfast in our rooms (those of us who ate), girls and boys crammed together in one parlor or sitting room, or whatever. It’s pretty easy to spot who’s missing. Some people cry. I don’t.

“They’re not going to send us back,” our teacher says bluntly, after softening us with some mindless platitudes about being strong and our classmates wanting us to watch out for ourselves, and yadda yadda. Then she shuts us up when furious voices break out. “Yes, I know, I know they’re the ones at fault here, for calling us here in the first place, but —” she stops, collects herself, and I vaguely realize how angry she looks under the surface, a seething fury at... herself being taken, stuck here? Being unable to protect the students? What’ll happen to her when we get back and the school find out some of her class are dead? I don’t know.

“They said they’re working on a way to get us home,” she says. “They were very... apologetic, not only about bringing all of us, but about... what happened.” How subtle. “But the fact of the matter is that even if they really are researching that — which we can’t guarantee—”

“They won’t want to send anyone back if they might be the real hero,” Sam cuts in, all gruff voice and square jaw. If he went and announced himself as the hero, I doubt anyone would gainsay him. I hope he does. Then the rest of us might get to go back. “Because they want their shitty bad guy killed.”

A horrible silence descends on us. We all sort of... glance at each other. Trying for subtle, and failing. _Are you the hero_ , all our awkward looks ask, which is dumb, because I’m pretty sure the actual hero would have told someone by now, if they knew it. So they probably don’t. I mean yes, I have that weird quest, but that’s probably for all of us, because of the summoning spell, so that doesn’t count.

Oh, my Lying didn’t level up for that. That’s nice.

The thing is, we’re not a bunch of idiots. This may be a fantasy world, but it’s clearly not a happy-fantasy type. What kind of moron would go ‘well, one of you’s the destined hero, but never mind, you can all go home, and we’ll all just stay here and die’? No-one, that’s who. Sure, they’re not going to deliberately piss us off, but the fact of the matter is that we all know if we start pushing shit and causing trouble, or try to run away, we’re going to... I don’t know. End up in a cell, tortured until we agree to try and kill our the Dark Lord? Be magically brainwashed and enslaved to do it? Be held hostage against each other? I mean, for all they know, the hero was one of— might be dead already. They’ll be even more desperate not to lose us, now.

One of the girls, Julia, timidly raises a hand. “Can we just... not fight? Somehow?”

As it turns out, the answer to that is ‘no’.

They were very polite about it, apparently. Apologetic even. And we’ll have the best of training, and equipment, and food, and blah blah, whatever, we’re basically prisoners in the Eliantan Palace grounds. That’s the long and short of it. And that makes more people cry, even the ones who managed not to cry over — what happened yesterday, including the boys, and no-one cares. This isn’t really the kind of thing you can mock someone else for.

On the one hand, no-one’s making excited boasts about what powers or skills they’re going to learn, but on the other hand, I kind of wish they were.

We all agree in the end, to learn the skills they try to teach us. They might come in handy, Mrs Hernandez delicately puts it, no matter who we use them against. I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything by that.

| **Lying increases to Lv 12!** |

Oh. There it is.

*****

The first lessons come after lunch, which I pick at. The food looks incredible, meats and stews, breads and fruits, but I barely taste anything, and most of us aren’t hungry. We all eat in almost-silence too, and even the Guards ‘casually’ stationed by the doors look awkward.

Right... lessons. So the first one, we’re all together. It’s like being in a classroom, all sat in rows, which really isn’t helpful considering a) what happened the last time we were in class, and b) how obvious missing classmates are when you recreate that classroom. In any case, I stare, blank-faced at the mage lecturing us about how the System works — or World-Writ, as they call it. It’s a stupid name, and a stupid mage, and I want to punch his face in, but I keep listening anyway and this time try to shove all the information into my brain.

Apparently you can have a maximum of five skills for every level you hold, so a Level 1 person should only have five skills, a Lv 2 have ten, etc. I currently have... seven skills. At level 1. And from the quick, confused glances darting around the room, I’m guessing a lot of us have more than five, which is good, because it means I’m not a special snowflake. That means it’s a lot harder to hide, though, although I notice nobody’s stupid enough to announce our extra skills to Mage Asshole the Lecturer.

I also, I remember, have a bonus stat from raising my skills — I eye it on my Status Screen for a minute, before impulsively adding it to Willpower. Magic may be cool, but I’m pretty sure it’s Willpower I need most, maybe even more than Luck.

| **WIL raised to 10!** |

Yeah, I know, shut up. I also don’t feel any different, still staring at the Mage as he explains what Critical Hits are, and how the Luck stat affects them, but then, it’s only one point difference. I must be, like, 11% more strong-willed than I was a moment ago, right?

I could ask how Stat raises works. But I don’t bother. I just can’t find myself willing to care.


	4. People Will Gender Literally Anything That Stands Still Long Enough and Some That Don’t

So apparently, you can learn five skills at Lv 1, and everyone’s presuming we came in with absolutely no skills — no-one’s actually asked, admittedly, but then, none of us have mentioned them outside of ourselves. And considering we’ve all unspokenly decided to stick these fuckers on an information diet, I don’t see that changing.

You can, however, swap out an old skill for a new one. The old one gets deleted, or vanished, whatever, and you suddenly go back to being crap at whatever it was you got rid of, but if you get a rare or impressive new skill and all your slots are already filled, at least you don’t have to go level up and then try to get the new skill again. That means that the Alliance has decided we should be taught five useful (in their eyes) skills, then go out to level up so we can learn more ones. Apparently they figure that if we’ve already learned any skills in our time here, we’ll just cheerfully delete those skills in favor of whatever they want us to learn.

Ha ha. No. Fuck off.

In a charming display of blatant sexism, after our ‘how the World-Writ works’ lecture (I’m still calling it the System though, because again, fuck off), the girls and Mrs Henderson get sent off to learn healing magic (which I’m pretty sure we should all learn), and us boys toddle off to wave swords around and try not to stab ourselves.

See? I told you it would be swords.

Look. I’m not saying swords aren’t cool. They are! Just that if I had to learn a weapon — or read an isekai novel about someone else wielding a badass weapon to save the world with — it wouldn’t be a sword. They’re way too overused. Admittedly this is a weird medieval-esque world, so they’re not going to have guns, or Asian weaponry, or mall-ninja type bullshit, or use scythes as anything other than agricultural tools, but still. Swords? What a cliche.

At least there’s a choice, once we’re lined up in the training room, which seems to be a posh one for nobles to learn in, rather than a proper training ground for the Guards or whatever. Not that I’m surprised they want to keep us indoors, considering... well.

Anyway, the seven of us pick from the racks of broadswords and longswords. No shortswords, rapiers, or fancy blades that you’d drool over if you saw them online. The longswords are lighter and have a bit more finesse than the broadswords, and considering I don’t know how long before I can raise my Strength Stat, I pick the longsword.

And yeah, that’s another thing — level ups get you 1 (just one!) Stat Point to spend. Sometimes you get some for achieving things, like when I got five Skills above Lv 10. But you can’t raise them through training, which means I can wave a sword around all day and not improve a single point in DEX, or END or whatever else you might naturally expect to improve.

Yaaaaaay.

At least it was a Guard teaching us this time; they were a bit less up their own asses than the mages. In any case, I spent the entire lesson, as we went over footwork, balance and posture, fantasizing about stabbing my way out of the palace and to freedom, but it was still... educational.

| **Longsword increases to Lv ... 4!** |

| **Sure-Footed increases to Lv ... 3!** |

The showers are shit. Primitive buckets of water, which are at least magically heated, though we’re too exhausted to really care. I wouldn’t have thought holding a stabby object and walking back and forth, holding stances and shifting weight could be so damn tiring, but all of us are wiped. The boys, anyway; I don’t know if the girls could even practice Healing Magic if they don’t have MP, but we have separate bathing rooms (thank fuck) so I don’t know, and I don’t care.

We eat. We curl up into our beds, tired beyond belief, and I hear my classmates’ breathing regulate as they fall asleep, my thoughts dulling as I start to join them.

I want to go home.

I’m _going_ to go home.

And anyone — anyone at _all_ who gets in my way, deserves everything they get.

*****

The next day, we learn magic.

This is, admittedly, pretty cool. Enough for us to actually make facial expressions when we hear it, and express something beyond despondency or righteous fury at our continued polite incarceration.

Even if you haven’t got MP (as the mages found out yesterday, when the idiots tried to teach the girls Healing Magic, presuming that they’d have a base Magic Stat of 10 — which is apparently what native humans usually start with at Lv 1), you can draw on the magic contained in small beads of — get this — ‘magicite’. Yep, real original naming. Anyway, magicite is rare but reusable, so the mages just kept filling up the beads from their own mana reserves, and the girls learned how to draw on the mana and use it to heal.

Handy, I suppose.

We’re all together today, because apparently it’s fine for girls to learn combat magic, I guess. I don’t understand the gender restrictions here — maybe because swords are melee, it’s bad for girls, but distance magic is fine? This is a logic-free zone, I should just accept that.

Well, there’s still some sexism at play, because apparently girls are ‘supposed’ to learn Air or Water magic, and boys are supposed to learn Fire or Lightning (which is totally electricity). Earth Magic is apparently gender-neutral. Cathy ‘casually’ asks a couple of questions, and it turns out this is entirely a social restriction, and that one gender isn’t actually better or worse at learning any ‘element’ so most of us promptly demand to learn one of our supposedly wrong elements, just to spite our teachers.

(Okay, I’ll admit it — if there weren’t some stupid gender stuff going on, I’d have jumped at electricity, or Lightning, or whatever. But the mages’ shrieks at us wanting to learn our ‘opposite’ element is too fun to pass up.)

So I pick Air, and so does Sam and Phillip. Lawrence, Muhammad, Lee and Ezra pick Water, and honestly, I don’t give much of a crap what the girls pick. Cathy chooses Lightning, I think (good choice) and Mrs Hernandez is the only one who takes Earth. I notice she picked last as well, and something about that pings me as kind of interesting, before I remind myself that I don’t care.

And then — yeah, I know — we all sit down and fucking Mediatate.

“You can remove the Meditation Skill later, and learn it when Mana Recovery is more useful,” one of the mages says, oblivious to the fact we’re all going to keep it, so HA. “Right now, you’re going to use the skill to better develop a connection to your chosen element —” And then he bleats out the stereotypical crap about being the insert-element-here and what it means to us, and what it represents, and yadda yadda new age shit.

I manage not to flinch when, after about ten minutes (and raising Meditation to Lv 15), a box happily pings up, telling me I’ve developed Air magic at Lv 0.

What’s Lv 0? I have no clue, but the screen breaks me out a weirdly pleasant daydream of being adrift in the sky, free of all cares, swept around by every breeze, so I’m less intrigued and more pissed off, if in a dull, tired way.

Well. Whatever.

I can’t seem to raise the level, no matter how much I get back into the Meditating, which makes sense when about another ten minutes later, the rest of the class start twitching and say they’ve developed a magic skill. Apparently just because you can ‘connect’ with your element (what does that even mean?) doesn’t mean you can do jack shit with it, because oh yeah, it also involves magic.

Right. I forgot that part. So we pass the magicite beads along our groups, all split into our particular element now, and learn how to tap the beads for that sweet, sweet MP.

“You’ll learn how to draw on your own mana once you’ve put points into the Magic Stat,” Mage Berzowitz tells us. He’s okay — youngish, not arrogant, actually looks kind of happy to be teaching us, rather than annoyed we don’t have MP and have to be taught everything from scratch. Hopefully the other elements have a teacher this tolerable.

I reach into my magicite bead with my miiiiiiind, woooo, spooky. But seriously, it’s a lot easier than I was expecting — for everyone, apparently. The tiny reservoir of mana is oddly easy to spot, and also nets each of us a Mana Sense Skill, which is another one they think we’ll have to ditch soon to get more useful Skills (ha!). Pulling it into ourselves is harder and making it flow through us, then forcing it to become Air mana rather than regular, vanilla mana, is harder still, but by lunchtime everyone in our Air group has managed to create a slow airflow around our hands by following Mage Berzowitz’s instructions.

Apparently that’s not enough to net us a Spell, unlike most of the other groups — I’m kind of jealous of the Lightning group, who’ve gained a Spell called Static Hands, and are now trying to mess up each other’s hair with it.

You’d almost think we didn’t have a bunch of our friends die two days ago.

I mean... I wasn’t close to anyone who died. I’m an antisocial loner asshole. But still.

I wonder how long before I can rip the air straight from the lungs of the Alliance leaders.

The best part comes after lunch, when we all go to our rooms for our afternoon off, because one of the girls (Melanie, I think) had an idea, and it turned out to be a really good one. Because even if we don’t have the MP to practice with, we’re not restricted to one element, are we? We can learn more than 5 Skills, and if there’s a limit, we haven’t hit it yet.

And that’s how every one of us knows each of the five elements within two hours of meditating, and even though you apparently can’t learn Healing the same way, we’re smug and happy until the next morning, when they give each of us an apron, gloves, a knife, and a box of chirping chicks, and don’t let us leave the room until we’ve killed ten birds each so that we get to Lv 2.

Considering we’re a bunch of city kids, none of us are very happy by then, but we sure are used to the smell of blood and puke.


	5. How to Make Bad Impressions and Inconvenience People

Guess what? We’re ugly.

Or most of us are, anyway. Sam’s about average, and a couple of the girls are as well, but most of us are considered... less than great, according to the gossip I heard whispered between two of the maids who didn’t realize I was standing outside the room they were cleaning.

It makes sense, I suppose. There’s literally a Stat for Attractiveness, which I guess means physical appearance. Not even Charm, just... Attractiveness. How does that even make sense? Is it some evolutionary thing? Like peacocks evolved with beautiful feathers to attract mates, and humans evolved with Attractiveness Stats? What the hell?

Anyway, you only gain XP through combat or quests, which means most civilians don’t get any higher than Lv 3 or so. You’d expect farmers, hunters and so on to level up more, but if you just keep killing the same type of thing over and over, you start getting massive XP penalties, so even they rarely get to more than Lv 6 or so.

What that means is that pretty much everyone who isn’t a regular civilian can afford to drop a Stat Point or two into ATT. Guards? Usually at around Lv 15, and it’s a rare one who doesn’t boost themself to at least average Attractiveness. Nobility? Power-levelled from a young age, and with a load of points dumped into ATT. Basically, if you’re higher than Lv 5, you’re going to look at least average, even if you were born naturally repulsive. It’s not a big deal really, except that soldiers and warriors are meant to be a high enough level that they can afford to put Stat Points into it — maybe it’s kind of a way to show off, like ‘I’m so strong I can waste a Stat Point on useless shit instead of something actually combat-useful’ — so the fact the potential heroes generally look kind of plain is apparently a Bad Thing.

Whatever. I mean, I know I’m no looker, but I’m not bad, right? My skin and hair get a little greasy sometimes, but that’s because I’m a teenager, it’ll clear up. And my posture isn’t great, but again, teenager. And — look, I’m a teenager, okay?

Long story short, it’s another of those stupid cultural things that make it all all the more obvious how different this world is.

Of course, this means that if we don’t stick Points into ATT, people might not realize how strong we are, when we get to high levels. If, I mean. Not like we’re planning on sticking around long enough to get high levels. But if everyone thinks all badasses are good looking, and we’re running around looking all homely, then...

Well, it’s something to keep in mind.

By now, it’s Day 5 of our exciting isekai adventure, and we’re starting to get twitchy for the heroes to show up and save the day. Yesterday we had to kill a bunch of chicks. It wasn’t fun, and none of us are looking forward to the day they pull us outside and tell us to start killing Goblins or something. Does this world even have Goblins? It has regular fantasy monsters apparently, plus demons (which are a sapient race like humans, with varying sub-species or races, or whatever).

We were all told to stick the Stat Point we gained from levelling into Magic, and there was no way to hide it if we didn’t, so we all obeyed like good boys and girls. Then we went behind their backs and practiced magic that they didn’t think we’d learned. As a bonus, us boys learned Healing Magic as well, even though the most we can do with our shitty MP and Recovery is to get rid of small bruises or scrapes, bit by bit.

So, yeah. Merlin, we aren’t.

The days slog on. We train with swords, and practice our ‘public’ element in lessons, still drawing on the magicite stones, because 1 Stat Point in Magic only gives 10 MP to play with. Now they think we can learn an extra five Skills, they sit us down for classes that give us Skills in Monster Knowledge and Demon Knowledge, so that we can better identify and kill them. There’s nothing about demonic politics, or culture, or anything that might encourage us to do anything more than kill them, which we discuss when we’re alone, and all find immediately suspicious. We’re all 21st century teens, it’s not like we’ve never heard of propaganda before, or seen this kind of twist on TV shows. Oh no, the good guys are actually kind of evil! What a shocker!

Blegh.

In private, we practice our secret magic with our shitty MP — I pick Fire, despite my love of Lightning, because it combines well with Air —and work on our Meditation, even though the gains from Recovery are still small. We work out enough, doing push-ups on the floor, to earn a Physical Fitness skill that apparently makes it easier to fight off disease, illness and poison. We tiptoe around the room trying not to be detected by each other, eyes closed, until we develop a Sneak Skill.

It’s slow. It’s steady. It’s moments of petty triumph that briefly interrupt long stretches of boredom and anxiety and sheer, utter loathing of everything around us.

Logically speaking, I’m pretty sure that even in the midst of all this... awfulness... I should find something good in the situation, but even something as straight-up cool as learning magic doesn’t add any real interest to my life. Some of us are obviously getting enjoyment out of it, but most of us seem to be more satisfied by the fact we’re sneaking our skills past our captors, and imagining exactly how we’d like to use said skills on said captors (hint: violently). We’re allowed the full run of the library, which I would normally have jumped at, but instead I find it’s only the fact we HAVE to go to breakfast and lessons that gets me out of bed.

I force myself to work out with the others until my Physical Fitness skill is at Lv 5, but my steps are still slow and reluctant. Conversation is... rare.

One of the girls, Miranda, knows some medical stuff. On Day 7 of our kidnapping, we all get a First Aid Skill from her admittedly sparse teaching, dredged-up knowledge from some emergency classes her parents made her take. CPR, treating burns, shock, tourniquets, that sort of thing. We’re not going to be performing surgery any time soon, but we feel weirdly confident in our abilities now, just as the information springs straight to mind when we consider Monster or Demon Knowledge Skills, or our bodies move automatically when going through the basic moves of our sword Skills.

It’s just in time, because on Day 8 at breakfast, Archmage Leo, May he rot in hell forever, sweeps into our dining hall and proudly announces that arrangements have been completed, and we’ll be going on to more specialized training from today.

No-one’s mentioned this before. No-one’s asked our preferences on what we’d like to train in, except for our choice of sword (for the boys) and what elemental magic to learn — and frankly, they wouldn’t have allowed us even that if they’d known we were going to spite them by choosing the ‘wrong’ elements.

But none of that matters because apparently they think the hero will become more obvious or effective or whatever if they give us all separate, specialized training. I’m sure this has absolutely nothing to do with splitting us up so that we can’t plot together, even though it’s pretty obvious by now that none of us are thrilled to be here and that we all want to punch the natives in the face.

I close my eyes and sink back into the plush seat as the furious yelling starts. Everything’s fine. Everything’s okay.

| **Meditation increases to Lv 19!** |

*****

I nod slowly when one of the Guards gives me my instructions. I’m to join up with a small squad that patrols the countryside around the city of Songspire, which is the capital of the Eliantan Kingdom and thus where the Eliantan Palace is. Why is it called Songspire? I have no idea. I could ask. I don’t.

I shrug when they ask if I have any questions. I really should ask some — things like, ‘how long for’, or ‘what sort of training’, or ‘will the rest of the squad know I’m a potential hero’, or ‘doesn’t this make us easier to assassinate, you idiot’, but I can’t be bothered to ask that either. Instead, I go and dress in the uniform they give me — browns and a little green, light and flexible, sturdy boots, toss my few items into my new pack, and manage to force myself to look around the rest of the boys in our room.

Sam is already gone — they want to train him as a Paladin apparently, and everything’s provided for them at the temples, so he didn’t need to change or pack — but everyone else is simmering with fury. The girls are probably changing as well, because how are we meant to refuse? We have nothing to back us up, no power or pull except that one of us is _apparently_ the summoned hero, and honestly, I’m not even sure about that any more. It’s not like the mages have stunned me with their competence after all, with their original fuck-up and how they’re still running around and playing catch-up even now.

They expected an actual, pre-trained hero, ready for them to throw at the Dark Lord, and they got all of us.

I’d feel sorry for them if, y’know, I were an idiot.

I don’t bother saying goodbye as I leave the dorm, out to the bored Guard waiting to escort me to my new squad. It doesn’t matter. It’s been a week, and there’s no-one come to save us yet. I haven’t given up all hope — maybe it’ll take two weeks or a month before that’s totally broken from me — but I have something better than hope, because I don’t think we can wait around for a Hero, a real superhero, to swoop in and save us anymore. So just in case they don’t, or can’t, I’m going to save myself.

And I’m going to start, I realize as world brightens around me a little when I follow my escort outside the Palace’s main entrance, starting up the long path to beyond the massive walls and into the city proper, by learning and using what I can to utterly annihilate the pieces of shit that think they have a right to my obedience.

I might even have some fun with it.

*****

Never mind! Everything is awful.

“Name?”

“Nathan. Nathan Murlow,” I say, because the Guards didn’t give me any fake I.D. before leaving, so I can only presume I’m supposed to give my real name.

The officer scrawls my words down on a notebook bound in thin leather, using a pen consisting of a wooden grip with a metal nib on the end. I have no idea what the ink he dipped it in is made from. Fantasy-monster squid ink? Some herbal concoction? The blood of executed criminals? They have printing presses, I know that; the books we studied about demons and monsters weren’t handwritten, but I’m suddenly aware I still know sweet fuck-all about the absolute basics.

That’s fine. I can learn what I need.

“Age?”

“Sixteen.”

“Address?”

What the hell am I meant to say to that? I stare at him, gorge rising, and try not to fidget. “Um. The Palace?”

The officer’s expression suggests a mix of disbelief and annoyance, which are two emotions I’m intensely familiar with. He clearly doesn’t have a clue who I really am — from what I’ve grasped, he thinks I was escorted here as some kind of potential escape-risk (which I am, let’s be honest), straight from the Palace. Am I allowed to explain? Doubt it. Neither of us look happy with the situation, but I’m a teenage kidnap victim and he’s a forty-something man dressed in military greens and browns, with a weird, small crossbow strapped to his waist, so I think I have more to complain about.

If he was allowed to ask me, I’m sure he already would have. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t. Simple.

He sighs, writes something down, and slips the notebook and pen — wiped clean on a piece of cloth — into one of his many pouches. Then he looks at me, tiredness revealed, professionalism dropping away. “What, exactly, are you supposed to be learning from us?”

I keep staring at him.

I shrug.

“Oh gods,” he sighs, eyes closing and pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s weirdly nice to know someone’s just as confused as I am. “Look, boy. I’m going to be blunt — you’re going to be a problem.” Yep. “I don’t know whether someone wants you out of the way for a while, or if you’re being punished for something, but considering the war, we can’t afford to be dragging deadweight around, y’see?”

I do see, really. It’s not my choice though, so keeping my mouth shut seems like the best option. Thankfully, I don’t seem to be expected to answer, because he carries on.

“So we’ll take you with us, you’ll learn what you can — probably not a lot, if you don’t have the Skill slots — and maybe you’ll be useful keeping watch and helping cook. You ever hiked the countryside before? — Who am I kidding, of course you haven’t, you’re a palace kid. Right.” He straightened up, expression hardening once more. “Don’t cause trouble. Don’t complain. Obey all orders. You don’t have a rank, which means you’re at the bottom, got it?”

Like I was planning on causing problems just yet. Although the idea that I was some spoilt palace-dweller was vaguely amusing, in an ‘everyone’s going to hate me’ kind of way. On the one hand, I could try to correct the misunderstanding, but then... did I care enough? No, no, I did not.

“Yes, sir.” See? I could be polite and obedient. For now.

My handover to the Eliantan Rangers (actual rangers! Impossibly generic!) was a masterpiece of stupidity. Did I get taken to the Rangers’ city base (if they even had one)? Nope. The Guards took me down narrow but well-lit residential streets, dodging the puddles of rancid filth that oozed towards drainage holes (judging from the lack of build-up, there must have been more to it than just ‘toss your crap out of a window and hope it’s close enough to the drains’), past frazzled-looking civilians on their way to wherever, and to a side-gate in the city walls, where a bored Guard had barely glanced at my escorts’ papers before waving us through.

There was a grand total of one Ranger waiting there, and he already looked like he hated the situation. Understandable; I did too. He looked even worse after the Guards left me there with nothing more than a quick salute and a complete lack of explanation.

Well. At least he doesn’t seem too eager to take it out on me.

“Good. I got recalled here as an emergency to collect you, so we’ll be getting back to camp as quickly as possible. What’s your Agility Stat?”

“Nine, sir.” Technically 10, with the +1 from my Potential Hero title, but I wasn’t going to mention that, just in case.

“Not terrible,” my new superior allows, grudging. “Not good, either. Level 1?”

“Two. Sir.”

“What’s the extra Point in?”

I pause. Should I explain that my Stats are below average? Strength is at 9 even with the title bonus, and my Magic is a measly 1. I’d been given a magicite stone which meant I could store an extra 20 MP for use, but that still leaves me basically magically crippled. “Willpower,” I finally say, which probably means he’ll think it’s at 11, and that might end up being an issue somehow, but whatever. It’s better he doesn’t think I dumped it into a physical Stat and overestimate my abilities.

“Willpower.”

Yes, sir.”

And there he goes, pinching the bridge of his nose again as he takes a long, unimpressed sigh. “Fine. Right. Willpower. I’m sure you can find... something useful to do with that. Any questions?”

Yes, but I doubt he’ll stand around for three weeks to answer them all, so I just grip my backpack and stick with a reluctant, “What’s your name, sir?”

“My-? Shel, I didn’t say, didn’t I? Captain Ural, of the Rangers.” He glances between me and the firmly-closed gate that leads to what passes for civilisation here. “I’d say last chance to back out, but apparently — well. We’d best get started.” Captain Ural motions away from the path that runs around the city walls, away from the road that heads off towards what’s probably a town or semi-decent place, and firmly in the direction of ‘absolute wilderness’. Okay, it’s plains of long grass and distant trees instead of tangled jungle, but still. We start off at a trot brisk enough I’ll have blisters within an hour, but I know better than to start whining. “Oh, and that sword you’re carrying; what’s your Skill with it?”

“Level 8, sir.”

He flinches, turning to affix me with a horrified stare over his shoulder. “Eight?!”

“Eight. Sir.”

I don’t hear what he mutters, but I kind of suspect it isn’t something complimentary.


	6. All You Really Need For a Hike is The Ability to Suffer

Within thirty minutes of not-so-casual questioning, Captain Ural has apparently established two things about me: I have absolutely no use, and I have absolutely no use.

I repeated myself? Yes! That’s how useless I am.

The fact of the matter is, he’s right (even if he doesn’t outright say ‘You’re a massive burden, Murlow’). My Stats are below average. My Skills are... well, I don’t know what would be reasonable, but they seem damn low to me. My knowledge base is terrible, especially when it comes to roughing it in the countryside, where we’ll be patrolling around farms and the like, killing monsters and dangerous animals, watching out for bandits or demonic spies. I’m a city-boy. I’ve never so much as been camping in my life. Guess how this is going to work out?

I have to hand it to the Captain though, he doesn’t insult or berate me, or even complain. No guarantee the rest of them won’t, but Ural himself seems pretty professional. A bit more solid muscle than I’d expected — I always thought of ranger builds as being more wiry and speed-based, but that’s yet another idea to throw out, I guess,

All the same, I’m fairly certain he wants to murder someone when he finds out I don’t even have a kit for sword maintenance in my bag, and we’re now too far from Songspire City for it to be worth going back and demanding one from the gate Guard. Hopefully I won’t need to polish or sharpen my sword for a while. Ha. Yeah, right.

The more we walk, and the more the conversation/questioning drops off, the more I start to think. Maybe it’s the fresh air, maybe it’s the walking being enough exercise to give me a hormonal boost, but I actually feel... kind of okay. Not good, obviously, I’m still planning to punch every single native of this world in the face, but the world seems a little more tolerable. Blue skies. Chirping birds (that aren’t trying to kill me, despite what RPGs have taught me about random wild animals).

It feels good not to be on guard, too. Maybe I should be, because — well, obviously nowhere’s safe, but still. No-one’s trying to manipulate me here, and even the Captain doesn’t know what the hell’s going on. Besides, with all this secrecy, I’d be amazed if even any demonic spies know where we’re being sent, even if they managed to get wind of the original summoning.

Still seems kind of incompetent though, I can admit, while trying not to trip over a rock hidden beneath a clump of bedraggled weeds, one that the Captain deftly avoided. They’ve had several days to arrange this, right? And they couldn’t even give me a whetstone? Was this a massive rush-job, or is whoever’s in charge of us just an idiot? Or sabotaging us? I’m honestly not sure which is worse.

For now, I don’t really want to consider it, though. My eyes are trained on the Captain’s back, watching how he moves with a smooth grace, one hand never too far from the miniature crossbow at his hip. His own backpack seems even smaller than mine, though the multitude of pockets and pouches on his uniform doubtless mean he’s carrying more. I’ve never heard anyone mention an Inventory System, so I guess that’s not something to look forward to for a while — my Inventory is still grayed out.

I keep practising Air Magic as we move, hopefully making myself a little more useful — just manipulating air currents around my body, nothing obvious or complicated, but the Skill ticks slowly up from Lv 6 to 8 despite my terrible lack of MP, so it seems worthwhile. I leave the magicite’s stored MP alone in case there’s an emergency, taking the opportunity to access my Status screen as I shift a slow breeze around my fingers.

—————  
**Name:** Nathan Murlow | **Lv 2** (000/200)  
**Sex:** M | **Age:** 16 | **Title:** Potential Hero  
**HP:** 100/100 | **MP:** 03/10 | **Points:** 0

 **STR:** 8(+1)  
**CON:** 9 (+1)  
**END:** 9 (+1)  
**DEX:** 10 (+1)  
**AGI:** 9 (+1)  
**ATT:** 9  
**PER:** 10  
**WIL:** 10  
**MAG:** 1  
**LUK:** 10 (+5)  
—————  
**Skills:**  
Air Magic, Lv 8  
Animal Taming, Lv 8  
Demon Knowledge, Lv 8  
Earth Magic, Lv 1  
Fire Magic, Lv 3  
First Aid, Lv 5  
Gaming: Video Games, Lv 12  
Healing Magic, Lv 2  
High School Education (American), Lv 34  
Knife, Lv 2  
Lightning Magic, Lv 1  
Longsword, Lv 8  
Lying, Lv 12  
Mana Sense, Lv 5  
Meditation, Lv 19  
Monster Knowledge, Lv 8  
Physical Fitness, Lv 7  
Running, Lv 24  
Sneak, Lv 5  
Sure-Footed, Lv 5  
Unarmed Combat, Lv 3  
Water Magic, Lv 1  
—————

I’m pretty average in school. Mostly because I ‘don’t apply myself’, or so a couple of teachers have claimed, and obviously some subjects I’m better or worse at, but overall... yeah, about average. So if ‘average’ works out to Lv 34 (according to my Skills), and assuming levels are about equivalent across Skills, I’m utterly crap in a lot of things. Decent running, okay at videogames, but utterly mediocre at everything else. At least my Stats are slowly getting up to something reasonable, although how I can trigger more quests, I have no idea.

Whatever Ural’s Endurance is, it’s a hell of a lot more than mine; after about two hours, I’ve gone from a steady walk, to an exhausted stagger, to near collapse. If this world had a sensible System I’d have increased my Endurance through working out, but the System sucks. A lot. So fuck it.

Ural has slowed down, gradually, but not actually mentioned the fact that I’m about to die from exhaustion, or the fact I’ve lost about half my body-weight in sweat, replaced by nothing — because guess what? I don’t have a water-bottle, and my Water Magic isn’t a high enough level to do anything useful with it. Should I tell him I need a break? I can barely think straight, but it might be a bad idea. He might just leave me here, which is a stupid thought, because he seems too professional for that... but what do I know about him, really? If he tells people I stupidly ran off to attack a deadly monster and got killed, who’s going to gainsay him?

But on the other hand, as I misstep, knees weak, and half-collapse to the ground, it’s kind of obvious I can’t go any further.

Ural stops. Turns around and strides the couple of meters back to me, looking casually down at me as I try not to cry out from the pain running through me. It went from painful, to numb, to agonizing a while back. “Not bad.”

I manage to wheeze out something that might be understand as confusion.

“You didn’t complain.” (Like I’d have the breath for it!) “I was expecting you to give up thirty minutes ago.”

That makes a certain amount of sense. In his eyes, I’m some soft palace kid who hasn’t even pushed himself in training, let alone levelled up. If I were, I’m sure I'd be whining and bitching right now, but as it is, I know full well that no overprotective parent or guardian is going to swoop in and chew him out if he pushes me harder than necessary. Actually, maybe I should start throwing tantrums and threatening to set my father on him, like some rich brat? Might ensure my treatment’s a little more comfortable.

“Nuuurgh,” I inform him.

Never mind.

Ural crouches down beside me while I try to drag air into my heaving lungs. He looks disgustingly fresh, not a hint of sweat, breathing steady. I’m not sure if I want to be him, or punch him. “Well, I know your limits now,” he continues, matter-of-fact, and I decide it’s definitely punch. “We’ll rest for a few minutes. Do you have water?”

I managed to shake my head in a vaguely controlled manner.

“Right. Not unexpected.” ‘Considering the terrible way everything else has been managed’, he doesn’t say. He _does_ reach into his pack and draw out a weird cloth pouch, the contents of which slosh beautifully. I wouldn’t care if it was toilet bleach in there, as long as it was liquid, but it turns out (even better) to be water. I find this out by slamming my lips around the opening as soon as I’ve scrabbled the lid off, while Ural settles on the ground in a comfortable looking position and starts pulling out other things from his backpack and pouches.

While my breathing eases, he spreads the items out before me, the objects sinking into the thick grass. “You know how to use a compass?”

I nod.

“That’s something, at least. If you’ve got room for the Navigation Skill, take it — if you can get a Survival Skill, even better, though that might take a while. Otherwise you’ll have to put up with non-Skill learning speed.” Still casual, he flips open the compass, thin lid popping up to show the little arrow underneath, then moving it to show it firmly pointing in one direction. “North, that way. Which means this direction,” he adds, unfolding one of the other items, which seems to be a basic map. You’d think a Ranger’s map would be full of detail, but once more, logic fails.

In any case, I manage to shuffle a little closer to peer at it, seeing the giant blob of Songspire City, and the blank space he points to and announces as our current location. It’s enough to get me the Navigation Skill, at least, though I don’t mention I got it — let him think I don’t have room for it for now; better to underestimate me, especially if I need to run from him.

My legs are still burning, and my chest aches something awful, but I try and pay attention anyway as Ural starts pointing out various other villages and towns, important roads, water sources and the like. The map only shows the local area — no need to show the whole country, I’d bet — but it’s more than I learned back in the palace. Now I think about it, they were all very tight-lipped about other habitations close to the city, but apparently they’re more confident in making sure we don’t run away now. That, or they just don’t care, which would fit with the ‘sabotaging us’ theory, not that I can see a reason for that.

Of course, I have no idea what’s going on behind the scenes, so...

Navigation gets up to Lv 3 as he explains various symbols and measurements on the map, and Geography (Eliantan) appears, pinging up rapidly as well. I should probably feel pleased with that, and it’ll definitely help if I need to run, but that can wait until I know a little more combat, and either have some money or the Skills to survive outdoors. If I can raise a couple of levels and improve my Stats as well, that would certainly help.

The boost that adrenalin gave me has long since faded. I just want to curl up in my nice, comfortable bed back home and sleep. For a month. For a year. I don’t even care.

“I’ll show you how to light a fire later,” Ural says, breaking into my mental drudgery. He hasn’t let me more than glance at the other things, most of which I don’t recognize, and puts them away swiftly. “You’ve had enough of a break.” I haven’t, but there’s no way I’m admitting to that, so I force myself up as he rises, and stagger along after him, keeping my mouth shut.

He has enough reasons to dump me in the wilderness without me making more of a nuisance of myself.


	7. INTERLUDE: Eliantan Rangers, Unlike Power Rangers, Are Not Color-Coordinated And Do Not Transform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathan a shit, no-one like him :|d

The boy was weird.

It wasn’t polite to say it, not that it would normally have stopped them from pointing it out; but he was a palace brat as well as weird, so they kept their mouths shut; and if the squad shot each other pointed looks or rolled eyes or some discreet hand-signals now and then? Well, the lad didn’t pick up on it, so what did it matter?

Mind you, he wasn’t stupid enough to be a danger, and he was willing to learn without complaint, so Murlow (if that was his real name) could be tolerated — would have to be anyway, orders right from the top, the gods knew why — so Ghensin put up with teaching the new recruit how to light a fire properly, and Linnie taught him how to prepare meat (he went hilariously green at the skinning and butchering, the palace brat!), and Ural went patiently over the basics of tracking animals and monsters, and even gave him a few pointers to improve the lad’s (terrible lack of) sword skill.

All in all, though, the Ranger squad knew not only was he a burden (awful stats, low skills, utterly depressing to be around), he was just plain _weird_.

Anti-social was one way to put it. Constantly morose another. Pig-ignorant of basic things like local geography, and sometimes showing a bizarre sense of prudishness (hygiene while patrolling the plains and woods was a luxury, naturally) and strange customs, it hadn’t been long before the lower-ranked Rangers were unsubtly trying to figure out whether the kid really had been palace-raised or maybe just dropped on his head. A lot.

“He’s obviously a political hostage from one of those barbarian tribes outside the Alliance,” is Linnie’s vote, while the kid’s been sent off to fetch firewood out of hearing or Perception range, and the rest of the squad sets up camp for the night, just three days after Captain Ural (and his tagalong) have joined them. “He’s been sent outside the Palace to learn more about our society, to see whether his tribe can integrate and become civilized!”

Ghensin pauses brushing off his bedroll, because that’s stupidity worthy of a good, hard stare. “Why would you send your political hostage out where he could get injured or killed, instead of keeping him safe in the Palace?”

“Uh...” Apparently Linnie didn’t think this far ahead, too excited to share her theory. “Well, um. Maybe he pissed someone off?”

“I could see that,” says Lattisla, who’s appreciative of Murlow joining the squad, if only for the fact it means he’s not the rookie any more. “He seems like the sort of kid who’s good at pissing people off, you know?”

The rest of the non-officer Rangers nod grudging assent to this, while Captain Ural and Lieutenant Mattira try to pretend they can’t hear them. A Ranger team operates on different rules of formality than a normal military team, naturally, and if a Ranger squad had to be professional every time an officer was nearby, they’d all have snapped and run for it long ago. After all, the Rangers aren’t really military; they’re where you go when the military doesn’t want you. Or when the local constabulary _does_ want you.

“His stats and skills are too low for a tribal.” Ghensin can’t help being one of guys who has to correct or contradict everyone... it’s part of his charm. Considering he has so little of it, the contrariness is a pretty big portion of it, too. The squad’s been together long enough (and through enough) that the rest find it an entertaining quirk rather than an annoying one though, and he’ll never admit how glad he is of that. “Besides, he’d have an ax instead of a sword. Everyone knows those barbarians use axes.”

“Which is why his sword skill’s so low!”

There’s a couple of minutes worth of furious dispute over that one — surely not all barbarians use axes, right? And besides, he speaks perfect Common, none of that primitive grunting language the tribals use, not even an accent — before Captain Ural clears his throat, signalling an end to the topic.

“He’s only been here three days,” Ural says pointedly, catching each of his subordinates’ eyes in turn — cynical Ghensin, over-enthusiastic Linnie, stoic Rina, loudmouthed Lattisla. Lieutenant Mattira manages to avoid the admonishment, too busy measuring out rations of jerky. “While he’s not entirely competent-“ (that gets a few snorts, also ignored) “- he’ll soon start to pull his weight. The boy’s picking things up quickly enough, isn’t he?”

That gets some agreement, if reluctant; Murlow’s got a decent memory for how to read the maps, and he hasn’t made any major errors, either in helping to set up camp, or the lessons they’ve given him in navigation, tracking and the like. One of his Skills must be Physical Fitness, because he’s getting noticeably better at that too, even if one of them has to hang back and wait with him sometimes while the rest of the squad patrols on ahead. In a couple of weeks, he might even be useful for more than just an extra pair of hands, especially if he can gain a level and get more Skills.

That of course, means he’ll have to kill things though, which means either hunting animals, or killing bandits or monsters... and one generally hopes not to run into bandits or monsters, while animals give little XP. Then again, with the kid only being Lv 2, it wouldn’t take much to get to Lv 3, right?

“He’s still slowing us down, though,” Lattisla complains, which is true, even if they’re only a day behind schedule — something that could easily be attributable to bad weather, except it’s been quite pleasant lately.

“Doesn’t socialize,” adds Rina, speaking up for once, and as blunt as she usually is. “Doesn’t talk about home or family. Doesn’t share songs or stories. Wasn’t in the army.”

That gets general agreement too, less reluctant than before. Admittedly Lattisla was never in the army either, but he was missing some fingers (everyone carefully avoided the topic), enough that the army wouldn’t take him. Everyone else in the squad though, as with many Rangers, had left the army, either serving their time or forced out through injury and unwilling or unable to return to a purely civilian life.

And then there’s Nathan Murlow, a healthy civilian, who really should be serving a year or two of conscription in the army, but gets thrown into the fairly safe patrols of the Rangers instead. A bastard son of some noble, most likely — not favored enough to legitimize, not inconvenient enough to place somewhere more dangerous... but enough to shove him out of the way for a while, somewhere that might even make him a little useful.

It’s... annoying. To be considered a dumping ground for some brat. They’re a full, active squad, not even a half-manned one desperate for any recruit to train up. At least he’s polite and willing to defer to everyone, rather than swagger around and turn his nose up at them, or he’d have found himself with some convenient food-poisoning by now.

“You know his background’s classified,” Ural says, though it obviously bites at him too. Still, he’s a professional, and when his orders state not to delve into his new recruit’s past or Skills, well, he can shut up and follow them. It means he’ll walk away with a decent pension eventually, assuming he doesn’t get shot by a bandit’s crossbow bolt, or the kingdom isn’t overrun and its people eaten by homicidal demons. “Besides, he’ll only be with us a month or two, so deal with it. You don’t have to be his best friend, just don’t make trouble.”

Ghensin shrugs uncomfortably. “Not like we’re stupid enough to pick on him, Captain. Not when we don’t know who his patron is.” It’s not as if they want the kid to turn up a year from now as some legitimized lordling with a grudge and the authority to have them exiled or executed, after all. “We’re just saying, you know, it’s a pain he can’t do anything useful.”

“He’s got Air Magic.” Apparently even Lieutenant Mattira can only pretend to fiddle around with supplies for so long before joining in. “Low-levelled, but he’s practicing every now and then, as discreetly as he can — doubt he knows I can sense it.”

That gets some interest, not least because, well... that’s kind of embarrassing. Air is a woman’s element, after all. So perhaps that’s why isn’t admitting to it? Maybe he was taught by his mother, instead of learning a proper element, or — and that topic gets shut down quickly, because speculating on his history isn’t a good idea. Besides, as Mattira adds, he only uses it for short bursts, as though he’s only using a little MP at a time, which seems weird. Even if he’s one of those unlucky people born with a low Magic Stat of 8 or 9, he should still have enough MP for longer periods of training, so he’s clearly not all that interested in levelling it, right?

The Captain and Lieutenant may not admit it, but it’s obvious everyone agrees — the kid’s as confusing as he is weird. More importantly, he’s coming back now, made clear by the faint sounds of approaching footsteps, slightly heavier than normal as he’s laden with firewood and trying not to stumble — and the topic swiftly and smoothly changes to the quality of mead at various pubs, a subject far more important than some palace brat who’ll only be with them for a couple of months at most.

The farmlands and woods of the Eliantan Kingdom aren’t a place where anything of importance happens, after all.


End file.
